<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I'd Never Substitute You for Anyone by ExaltedBrand</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391513">I'd Never Substitute You for Anyone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand'>ExaltedBrand</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Biting, Does This Count As Selfcest?, Duty, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Forbidden Love, French Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Intimacy, Kissing, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Neck Kissing, Nudity, One Shot Collection, Porn With Plot, Pre-Canon, Pseudo-Incest, Self Confidence Issues, Sleepy Cuddles, Vaginal Fingering, hay, slightly meta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:54:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, all you need is someone who understands you.</p><p>A short series of what-ifs starring the second-generation ladies of FE4 and their substitute character counterparts – with varying degrees of smuttiness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lana/Mana | Muirne, Leen | Lene/Laylea, Nanna/Jeanne, Phee | Fee/Femina|Hermina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. On a Golden Shore With You (Lana/Muirne)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the days before Grannvale's assault on Tirnanog, two like-minded priestesses indulge in a rare moment of privacy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Rating: Mature</b>
</p><p>in which i take two characters who might not even canonically exist together and try to make it seem as if they always have</p><p>Pairing suggestion from Cormilla</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a strange place to find herself, Muirne thought. The Silver Lion was Tirnanog’s only inn, and with the town’s relative poverty—let alone how remote it was—the proprietors had never made much of an effort to bring it up to standards, perhaps knowing that hapless travellers, worn and weary from Isaach’s roads, wouldn’t have any other choice. It wasn’t well-kept, and it wasn’t clean: the rooms were musty and ill-prepared, and the roof leaked in places, letting in the cold, damp air. Her orphanage, by contrast, was just a few minutes away, around the corner from the market square and hidden away at the end of Samphir Lane; and while it was dark, and cramped, and sometimes just as cold, it was also home – safe, and comfortable, and familiar.</p><p>But an inn room afforded privacy. Privacy that couldn’t be found in the busy, bustling halls of an orphanage. Privacy that, in the right circumstances, in the proper company, could make even a run-down room in a forgotten corner of Tirnanog feel close enough to home.</p><p>And she was hardly wanting for proper company.</p><p>“Ah… L-Lady Lana…”</p><p>The soft hand grasping her wrist pushed her a little further up against the wardrobe, taking care to be gentle, to go at a comfortable pace; and a pair of lips pressed delicate kisses to her cheek, then her jaw, then the most sensitive spots around her neck.</p><p>“It’s okay,” the other girl cooed. “You needn’t use my title here. It’s just the two of us…”</p><p>Among so many other things, Lana had inherited her mother’s voice: that affectionate tone that reassured Muirne, that told her everything was going to turn out fine.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry,” she managed. “It’s just… I’m only a—"</p><p>She let out a tiny gasp as Lana’s teeth grazed her throat, then arched her neck back when those same teeth sank down so tenderly into her skin that it felt nothing like a bite.</p><p>“I won’t hear that,” Lana said, plucking at her lover’s neck like sharp, lipless kisses. “You know how precious you are to me. Our standings don’t make a bit of difference.”</p><p>Anyone who saw them might have been shocked: two priestesses, pure and virtuous, being so intimate together. But privacy—that same, wonderful privacy—gave the two girls the chance to express whatever they wanted without fear of someone seeing them.</p><p>And Lana was right, of course. Muirne knew she was right. There was no need for stiff etiquette; no need for any unnatural distance or deference. She and Lana had been such close friends for the longest time. She knew that they were both driven by the same hopes, the same fears, the same biting insecurities – almost as if they were the same person, save for the Holy Blood of Ulir running through Lana’s veins.</p><p>Still, even as they’d all but grown up together in that orphanage, she found it difficult to do away with some habits. From the day she’d learned that Mrs Edain, the kindly, compassionate matron of the orphanage, was actually a lady of House Yngvi, she’d always done her best—being nothing more, in her view, than a lowly commoner thriving off a noblewoman’s bottomless generosity—to pay her the respect she was owed. It was only natural that such respect should have also extended to her daughter.</p><p>Sometimes, it had caused problems. Addressing Lana as “my lady” in public earned the both of them odd stares, giggles, hushed whispers behind cupped hands – and worse, the occasional suspicious glance to remind Muirne, always too late, that Lana, Lady Edain, and so many of the other orphans in their care were all here because they were hiding from the Empire.</p><p>But she couldn’t imagine addressing her in any other way – not even when Lana had her pinned up against the wardrobe of a room in the Silver Lion, hardly for the first time, with the kind of assertiveness that had surprised them both during their first time.</p><p>“La… A-ah…”</p><p>The letters hovered on her tongue: the first two letters of Lana’s name, the first two letters of her title. They caught there, hanging breathlessly; and she swallowed them down as one. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she felt Lana draw back from her neck and drift higher, over her jawline, towards her lips. She caught the other girl’s face in both hands, fingers threading through her dark hair – then, as Muirne looked at her again, she closed the distance.</p><p>“Lana,” she heard herself say. A commitment to informality. “L-Lana, I… mmh…”</p><p>The kiss was chaste at first, as if they were still clinging to the illusion of propriety; but their true feelings quickly broke free. Their tongues danced together, lips smacking hungrily, and for a moment it seemed they couldn’t press close enough; as if their hands couldn’t touch enough skin; as if they couldn’t get enough of each other’s taste and scent and touch. There was only a desperate, searing closeness between their lips now, and it went on and on until they were both breathless.</p><p>When they finally parted, they pressed their foreheads together, fingers idly stroking at hair and skin and robes.</p><p>“I don’t deserve you,” Muirne said. She wore a playful smile, tried her best to sound teasing; but her eyes betrayed her earnestness. “You’re so kind, and beautiful, and…”</p><p>“Don’t be silly." Again, Lana’s voice was calm and motherly, and she traced the line of Muirne’s jaw with her finger. “You don’t have to ‘deserve’ anything. You’re my best friend. So long as you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”</p><p>“I <em>am</em> happy.” Muirne said it with conviction, with certainty; and just like that, it was true. “I’m never happier than when I’m with you. It’s just… sometimes, I worry.”</p><p>Lana quirked an eyebrow. “Worry? About what?”</p><p>“What if something happens? What if the Empire finds out about you, and your mother, and everyone else at the orphanage…?”</p><p>“Then we fight.” The answer was immediate – as if she’d thought it through before. “We fight with Seliph, and my mother, and Prince Shannan, and everyone else. If we can’t fight, then we run, or we hide. But we’ll do whatever it takes to survive. That’s all we can do.”</p><p>Lana spoke so bravely that Muirne couldn’t help but feel her heart race with admiration – but a deeper anxiety had taken root in her, driving out the confidence.</p><p>“I’ve… I’ve heard rumours,” she murmured. “Such terrible rumours – that King Danann’s spies have been investigating Tirnanog. I-If that’s true, then… then maybe they’re not far away. Maybe they’ll—”</p><p>“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Lana said. Her interruption was gentle, but it still made Muirne jump. “As long as we stay together, I know we’ll be fine. After all we’ve been through, how couldn’t we be?”</p><p>“I don’t want to lose you.” Muirne didn’t know why she felt embarrassed saying it; didn’t know why something so reasonable felt like a shameful admission. “I don’t want to have to see you get killed, and… and lose someone else…”</p><p>“We’ll defend one another. We’ll survive together. And… and if anything does happen to me, then I know you’ll take care of everyone. You’re stronger than you think.”</p><p>Her lips brushed against Murine’s cheeks – not quite a kiss, but rather an expression of something even more intimate.</p><p>“I love you, you know,” she whispered. “And I believe in you.”</p><p>Those few words reignited an ember that had never quite died; and the kiss began anew, messy and desperate and incredible. It burnt away all the loneliness and the uncertainty and the fear of what could come. It burnt away everything but the feeling of their lips, and their intertwined fingers, and their love.</p><p>Where Muirne had found the confidence to reciprocate Lana’s nervous advances on that first night, so many months ago now, she couldn’t say. Where she’d found the courage to initiate on the second occasion and go much further, she still didn’t know. And how she’d ever won the heart of a noblewoman of such a powerful house—a direct descendant of one of the Twelve Crusaders—when she herself had come from nothing and still so often <em>felt </em>like nothing… she could never hope to guess.</p><p>What she did know, however, was that it felt right. More than right. Years of friendship had stirred so suddenly into something greater, blossoming into a perfect expression of all the trust and adoration they’d built up for each other for so long. From the first time their lips had met, they’d felt liberated – like someone had told them, at last, that yes: it was okay to be in love.</p><p>Love. Yes; she loved every part of it.</p><p>She loved Lana’s lips against her own, and the way the girl held her close. She loved the gentle tug of her fingers through her hair. And she loved the warmth of her body, like a hearth on a cold, dark night. That heat only grew as their shawls fell naturally away and their dresses slipped down their shoulders; and soon they were both pressed against each other again, fair skin brushing flesh and lips never parting.</p><p>Muirne wanted to explore every part of her. She wanted to run her hands through every dip and valley, feel every crease and curve. Even the aroma of her sweat—mixed with a rich perfume that could only have belonged, she thought, to a noble—held an irresistible appeal.</p><p>When at last they sank down onto the bed, loosely wrapped in the thin linen sheets and tangled in a mess of arms and legs, Muirne’s senses were clouded with delirious abandon, overwhelmed by the thudding of her lover’s heart. As they kissed, as they caressed, as they moved together in perfect rhythm, she couldn’t help but imagine herself as a maiden adrift in the northern Isaachian seas – tossed and turned about for years and years on stormy waters, only to open her eyes and find herself washed up on a shining golden shore, safe at last in the arms of a smiling Lana.</p><p>It was a silly thought, really, when the reality was just as wonderful. But as if to humour her imagination, the white lace curtains, thin and tattered and only held together by threads, stirred lazily in the evening breeze, like waves lapping at the sand.</p><p>It was said, she’d heard, that the Holy Blood of Ulir brought good luck and fortune to its inheritors – and to those close to them. Someday, that fortune they shared would surely have to come to an end. But tonight, she and Lana—her friend, her lady, her love—had all the time they needed together. Tonight, even if King Danann had set his sights on Tirnanog, the thought of war looming on the horizon could be little more than a dim and fleeting fear.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The original request for this one was a second generation girl shipped with her substitute character, but given the potential number of options -- Nanna/Jeanne, Tine/Linda, Fee/Hermina, and so on -- I'm sorely tempted to make something of a one-shot series to explore more of these pairings. If I do, expect to see this story updated sometime in the future!</p><p>As always, follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ExaltedBrandAO3">Twitter</a> if you're interested in updates on my writing! I ran a small poll to gauge the second-generation character chosen for this fic on there (with... about the number of responses I was expecting), so I might try out some more polls in the future -- especially if I'm having trouble deciding which request to tackle next.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Spreading Our Wings (Fee/Hermina)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Hermina, a humble soldier of Silesse, Princess Fee finds her escape.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Rating: Explicit</b>
</p><p>remember when grannvale occupied the entirety of silesse for literally over a decade and it somehow only ever got a passing mention in FE4??</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the briefest moments of her life, in the days when she’d been ignorant of the world beyond her frostbitten bedroom window in Silesse Castle, Fee had been allowed to dream of a wonderful future waiting in store for her. A childhood fit for a princess, picturesque as a fairy-tale, with dashing nobles sweeping her off her feet. Her mother, Queen Erinys, had raised her on such stories of princes and princess, kings and queens, kingdoms and romance; had told her the tales of Lord Sigurd, who had given everything to bring peace to Jugdral and to find the woman he’d loved in spite of his fate; and had even touched—only briefly, with a reticence Fee would later realise was regret—on her time as a pegasus knight, serving Queen Rahna alongside her sister to protect Silesse from its enemies – and from itself.</p><p>The stories affected Fee, as they might have affected any impressionable young girl. She’d dreamed of being a princess fit to dance in time with princes from every corner of the world, surprising them with her grace and beauty and delighting them with her charm and wit – just as she’d dreamed of being a pegasus knight fit to honour both her mother and aunt, soaring high above Silesse’s hills and mountains and the colours glittering in the snow to defend her country and her people.</p><p>Sooner than she would have liked, reality set in. It hadn’t taken Fee long to realise that her mother, while a queen, ruled only as a figurehead, second in status to Grannvale’s puppet government; nor had it taken her long to learn that growing up as a princess under the Empire’s thumb—crushed beneath their endless scrutiny—was the furthest thing from the romantic fantasies she’d imagined for herself.</p><p>In Grannvale’s Silesse, life followed a dangerous simplicity. A routine balanced on a fine razor’s edge. There were rules to follow – expectations placed on Fee, her brother, and even the queen by the Empire’s occupying ministers, eager to ensure that the Silessian royalty’s conduct never compromised their usefulness as political pawns. Fee, for years, had been forced to abide by those expectations: to act with the dignity expected of her position; to distance herself from her people in favour of entertaining Grannvale’s guests, all of whom were far from the handsome princes she’d envisioned; and to abandon her ambitions of becoming a pegasus knight, lest by taking up arms as a soldier she inspired the rest of Silesse to do likewise in revolt.</p><p>Yes – for years, she’d been forced to betray her dreams. While her mother was wasting away in illness and her brother had vanished off into the world to track down their cruel, neglectful father, Fee had been made to turn her back on her people, and to pledge her loyalty to the very same people—the corrupt, cowardly villains—who had so despicably betrayed Lord Sigurd at the end of all her mother’s stories.</p><p>It had been a stroke of luck, then, that she’d found Hermina.</p><p>By all accounts, their paths should never have crossed. Fee was a princess of Silesse, a bird to be kept locked up in a cage, a puppet to Grannvale’s politics. Hermina was a commoner, a soldier-in-training who yearned to become a pegasus knight, a puppet to Grannvale’s military. They came from different worlds. Lived different lives. Had everything gone to plan for the Empire—had Fee been kept under the closest surveillance, never allowed to spread her wings and fly—they would have lived and died as strangers.</p><p>Yet somehow, they’d met. Somehow, Hermina had found herself assigned to Silesse Castle. Somehow, on her very first day, she’d had a chance encounter with the lonely princess in a quiet, lonelier corridor. And somehow, fuelled by that overwhelming loneliness, Fee had pushed aside her fears of the ministers to stop and speak with Hermina, talking and listening and lingering at a total stranger’s side for longer than either of them could recall.</p><p>In that moment, they’d felt a connection. A sense of knowing; of recognising something familiar in the other.</p><p>A spark waiting to be kindled.</p><p>Maybe the ministers had grown careless with Fee, or maybe they’d never really cared at all beyond giving her the impression of authority. But from their very first meeting, right under Grannvale’s nose, Fee and Hermina had become fast, inseparable friends.</p><p>And through that friendship, Fee found her escape: found a path, even, to the life she’d been denied. In the evenings, when their respective duties had come to an end, they stole away to the privacy of the nearby forests and fields – and there, under the moonlight, they trained together. With a dedication approaching devotion, Hermina had gladly taught an insistent Fee everything she’d learned about fighting: how to handle a spear, how to swing a sword, and even—for all her own inexperience—how to fly a pegasus.</p><p>Hermina, Fee learned, had grown up on all the same stories: stories of Lord Sigurd, of Silesse’s Angelic Knights. They’d inspired her, too, in the very same way, and she’d come to idolise Fee’s mother and aunt as paragons of knightly grace and chivalry. Knowing that, it was no surprise that she’d taken so quickly to Fee; no surprise that she’d agreed, without a shred of hesitation, to go behind her superiors’ backs in order to spend time with her; no surprise that she’d risked so much just to offer herself to Queen Erinys’s daughter – as if Fee, just by sharing her blood, was one and the same.</p><p>Fee was no stranger to comparisons with her mother, and for all the years she’d endured them, she’d never liked most of them for the simple reason that they were almost never true. Despite her best efforts to look the part of a princess, she didn’t come close to her mother’s beauty. Where her mother had been fearless in her youth, Fee had been meek, resigning herself to the cruel realities of Grannvale’s rule. And for as long as the Empire’s regime dragged on, she could never hope to become a pegasus knight worthy of her mother’s legacy.</p><p>But when Hermina compared Fee to her mother, or to her aunt—sometimes subtly, sometimes outright—it felt different. More earnest, more convincing. With their friendship, she’d found a reason to smile as brightly as her mother had smiled in happier, healthier days; just as she’d found someone willing to train her, to help her honour her mother – even if she knew she’d never match or surpass her.</p><p>Hermina hadn’t changed Fee’s world. She hadn’t dismantled the Empire, or brought Ced back to Silesse, or cured her mother’s illness. But her devotion, kind and honest, had at least brought some light to it.</p><p>She’d brought something else, too. A little ember of affection, small but strong enough to ignite the unkindled spark hovering between them. Without being fully aware of it, the two of them had let it grow unchecked, distracting themselves with their routine; and even when Fee briefly caught sight of the ember in Hermina’s beauty, or heard it flickering away as they talked, or felt its heat brush against her cheeks, she never dared to think about it. It was dangerous to assume that life under the Empire would ever grant her more than the happiness she’d already found with Hermina – if that, too, wasn’t constantly at risk of being snatched away.</p><p>In the end, it caught them by surprise, roaring up when they’d least expected it – burning with the heat of intimacy and the flames of wild, untameable passion.</p>
<hr/><p>It was a frigid night in Silesse – far too cold for Fee and Hermina to train as they usually did. The snow fell heavily enough to bury the fields, with the evening air seeping through the walls, and pale blankets of fog swallowed up the forest surrounding Hermina’s cottage home at every turn.</p><p>But as their naked bodies pressed together—as their lips met feverishly, as their fingers trembled against soft skin, as their minds raced with every forbidden thought they’d ever had about each other—it was easy to forget the world outside.</p><p>Fee had never known another woman’s touch before. She’d never considered it, had never even known it was an option. Her childhood fantasies had been filled with gallant gentlemen, with chivalrous knights, with princes and kings and husbands-to-be. But that night, something had changed. When Hermina had slowly pulled off her armour and clothing to reveal the strong, slender body hiding beneath, Fee had found herself utterly entranced. When Hermina had gently urged her down onto the small bed, skin stroking against skin, Fee had found herself unable to resist. And when Hermina’s lips had captured her own in a kiss, Fee had yielded gladly.</p><p>Hermina had a way, she’d found, of making everything feel right.</p><p>“Are you cold, Lady Fee?” Hermina whispered. “I-I can add some more wood to the fire, if you’d like – or I could fetch an extra blanket or two…”</p><p>Even here, she was so sweet; so kind and committed. Her hands trailed down the goosebumps on Fee’s back, stuck somewhere between wonder and concern, and she held her a little tighter to share their warmth.</p><p>“I’m alright, Hermie,” Fee giggled, letting her own hands wander up the softest parts of Hermina’s thighs. “I like you just where you are.”</p><p>Hermina shivered at Fee’s touch, and let out a light, happy sigh that settled into a smile.</p><p>“I see… That’s good. It’s just – I was worried that…”</p><p>Her voice trailed off, breaking away into short, unsteady breaths – and to mask her embarrassment, she brought her lips down to Fee’s neck, kissing under her chin and breathing in her scent.</p><p>“Mmh…” Fee sighed. “Hermie…”</p><p>“I’m here.” Hermina’s voice was tender against Fee’s ear, delicate as the Silessian snow; but also laced with uncertain energy, fragile with anxiety and anticipation.</p><p>Fee could hear the disbelief in it, too: Hermina’s disbelief that she was sharing a bed with a princess, that she was making love to a princess. They’d only stepped inside Hermina’s home to escape the cold, but the privacy of her bedroom—so far away from the castle, from the Empire’s prying eyes, even from the curious, innocent glances of Hermina’s mother as they’d entered—had finally led them to confront the feelings they’d ignored – and to confirm what they’d both suspected for months on end.</p><p>Disbelief was natural. Fee felt it just as strongly; had felt it when they’d shared their first kiss, dizzy and rushed, and had felt it when they’d stripped off their clothes, nervous and giggling like it was all just a silly game rather than a prelude to lovemaking. And she felt it even now – when Hermina’s hands ran down her body like hot coals stoking a new fire in her heart, drifting lower and lower until her fingers finally slipped between her legs and found the soft bud of flesh there to already be slick with desire.</p><p>“Ah… T-that’s…”</p><p>Responding to her moans, Hermina began rubbing at it with a feather-light touch, coaxing it into full arousal, and Fee clutched at the linen bedsheets beneath her, trying her hardest to hold on.</p><p>“Like this…?” Hermina asked, sounding unsure of herself even as her hand moved so skilfully between Fee’s thighs. “Does it… feel good…?”</p><p>Between sighs, Fee managed a nod – then gasped, louder, as the other girl’s fingers slipped inside her, sending tiny ripples of pleasure up her spine. Hermina pressed another kiss to the back of her neck, as if capturing one of the ripples with her lips, and Fee felt the last fragments of her composure slipping away.</p><p>The sensations were so intense, so unlike anything Fee had ever experienced. Despite her doubts, Hermina’s fingers worked with careful purpose, subtly drawing out every little bit of pleasure – but that wasn’t what set Fee’s heart racing the most.</p><p>No – no, it was something else. Something in Hermina’s eyes, something in the waver of her voice. It was a need. A need for her approval; for the approval of Erinys’s daughter; for a sign that her service and devotion to Fee was enough to honour the knight and queen she admired so much.</p><p>Had Fee enough breath to speak, she would have gladly given Hermina that approval. But in the absence of words, she had to hope that her sounds she made conveyed it well enough – her whines, her whimpers, her high squeals of delight as the other girl pushed ever deeper inside her.</p><p>It was all new. All wonderful, all exciting. Most importantly, though, Fee felt happy—as happy as she’d been in her childhood—and safe with Hermina. Safe from the Empire, safe from duty and obligation. And safe, too, from the thoughts of her mother – unwell beyond all hope of a cure and deteriorating by the day.</p><p>It was terrible, really. Hermina had been kind enough to train her, freeing her from her cage and offering her the chance to become a pegasus knight of her own – but she’d clung to her, most of all, as a distraction from the inevitable.</p><p>“Don’t stop,” she managed, bucking her hips against Hermina’s hand and fighting back a louder moan. “Please…”</p><p>“I won’t,” Hermina promised. At last, her voice had found its confidence, and she spoke with all the sincerity of a knight swearing an oath. “I’ll stay by your side as long as you need. All night, all week… All my life, if you’ll let me…”</p><p>Their noses brushed, and their lips met, and then they were kissing again. Their teeth bumped for a moment, caught up in a rush of clumsy excitement, but their tongues soon met in a dance, intimate and intense, and the mistake melted into nothing.</p><p>With every kiss, every thrust, Fee let herself be pushed closer and closer to the edge. Her breathing had turned ragged, as hurried as the beating of her heart, and her head felt light and dizzy. Desperately, she grabbed at Hermina’s shoulders, wrapped her legs around Hermina’s waist, pulled Hermina close, closer, as close as she could hold her; and Hermina returned the favour by picking up the pace, driving her fingers into Fee with focused intent. She moved ever faster, led Fee ever nearer to bliss – and finally, as she hooked her fingers suddenly and pressed right up against Fee’s sweet spot, the princess came undone.</p><p>As each wave of release took Fee to new heights, lifting every last one of her burdens for a single, heavenly moment, Hermina held her tightly until the very end.</p>
<hr/><p>“Leave, Lady Fee? You mean… leave Silesse?”</p><p>Briefly, Fee lost herself in Hermina’s eyes – the way they shone even in the unlit darkness, deep green and brimming with life. For some reason, they mirrored Fee’s own eyes almost perfectly.</p><p>“Mm,” she murmured. “You’ve heard the rumours, haven’t you? The rebellion up in Isaach – Lord Sigurd’s son…”</p><p>Hermina nodded, almost imperceptibly, and her hands squeezed Fee’s under the covers. “Of course. When I’d finished my training, I’d heard… Well, I’m supposed to be sent up there.” She paused, then sighed. “To put it down.”</p><p>“Is that what you wanna do, Hermie?”</p><p>“No. No, of course not. I wish I could be with them, fighting by their side… fighting the Empire, fighting for Her Majesty…”</p><p>“Then let’s go. Tomorrow night – let’s grab our stuff, hop on our pegasi, and fly up there to join them. Just the two of us. It’d only take a day or two to reach Isaach.”</p><p>Hermina laughed, short and nervous. “You make it sound so easy. Wouldn’t it cause a stir…? Our princess running away, our queen left all by herself…”</p><p>She couldn’t have known, of course. She couldn’t have known that Fee’s mother was on her deathbed; couldn’t have known that her invincible idol—her inspiration for fighting—had been made mortal by age. Fee had never told her any of it – and even now, wrapped up in bed with her, she couldn’t bring herself to break Hermina’s heart with the truth.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” she said. “My mum’s always said that our people are as tough as they come. No matter what happens—no matter what the Empire tries to tell them—they won’t lose heart. Never have, never will.”</p><p>Hermina couldn’t have known, either, that Fee’s mother—summoning up a smile with the last of her strength—had already given her daughter her blessing to join Lord Sigurd’s son in ending Grannvale’s tyranny. But Fee decided not to mention it. If Hermina was going to join her—to leave her family in Silesse, to betray her place as a soldier of the Empire—she didn’t want it to be a decision made from obligation to someone else.</p><p>She watched Hermina carefully; saw, for just a moment, the flicker of hesitation, and the doubts running through her mind.</p><p>Then, it passed – and those green eyes were shining again, rekindled with devotion.</p><p>Hermina had, after all, sworn an oath.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Nordion Way (Nanna/Jeanne)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Even in exile, Nanna has never been one to forsake her duties.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Rating: Explicit</b>
</p><p>in which nanna takes after her mother in more than one respect</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>War had robbed Nanna of a great many things. It had robbed her of her mother, who she could only recall in her reflection – when her blonde hair and clear eyes and fair, noble skin seemed, for the briefest moments, to belong to someone else. It had robbed her of Nordion, her kingdom; had stranded her on the wrong side of Jugdral, too far from Agustria to ever dream of seeing Nordion’s silver towers and golden meadows with her own eyes. And it had robbed her of Leonster, the place of her birth – the kingdom that had kept her mother safe, that her father had once served so dutifully, and that had become a home just as close to her heart as Nordion.</p><p>It hadn’t robbed her, however, of her sense of duty. Of her responsibility to others.</p><p>Her mother had once told her, for reasons she could no longer recall, that a lady of House Nordion had an obligation to her friends and family, regardless of their background or social standing. And though Nanna’s memories of her mother had all but faded away, those words—serious, assured, and just slightly sad—had never left her.</p><p>Duty hadn’t, unfortunately, kept her from jealousy. In her mother’s absence as a child, drifting from place to place without home or shelter in Prince Leif’s company, she’d clung desperately, instead, to her father’s affections – and when he’d adopted Jeanne, overcome with pity for the lost little orphan, she’d very briefly hated her. She’d hated that she was no longer her father’s only daughter, as if he’d somehow betrayed her mother’s trust through his kindness; hated that she’d gained a sister she’d neither wanted nor needed; and hated, above all else, that a stranger had come along without warning to replace her.</p><p>But her jealousy had passed – because in many ways, they were one and the same.</p><p>Jeanne, like her, had lost everything to war. To Grannvale’s cruelty. She’d been passed from parent to parent, from guardian to guardian, never allowed a place to call home or even just a simple moment of rest. She was an orphan, a refugee, a faultless victim of the Empire; lost on the road, adrift in the chaos, and desperate for love – for a family, caring and constant in her life.</p><p>That might have been why, in spite of Nanna’s bitterness, they’d grown so close so quickly. Why Nanna had learned, with time and patience, to love Jeanne as a sister – and to tend to her happiness with the deepest kind of devotion. Jeanne had needed someone to guide her through the dark—someone she could trust, someone who would never abandon her or betray her—and Nanna, as her mother’s daughter and a princess of Nordion, had a duty to be that guide. To be the family Jeanne had always wanted.</p><p>The years of exile had ticked by slowly for them. The years of running, the years of being hunted by the Empire, the years of only finding warmth and comfort in Leif, in their father, and in each other. The years had tested them, challenged them, sometimes changed them – but Nanna had never once wavered in her duty to her sister.</p><p>And even now, even here—in the dim, dusty interior of an empty stable, where the wind shook the old wooden walls, and where, for only a few hours, they could be so far away from everything and everyone else—Nanna loved Jeanne with all her heart.</p><p>She loved her in more ways than one.</p><p>She loved the soft, sweet moans Jeanne made as they kissed; as their lips brushed so delicately together, again and again. She loved the way their fingers laced in their intimacy, tender but inseparable, as if locked in a unspoken promise of loyalty. And she loved her sister’s warmth: the heat of her body pressed firmly against her own, the heat of her breath on her skin, and the heat further below as Nanna’s knee gently urged its way between her legs – the passion growing steadily between them from deeper within, aching and inescapable.</p><p>In the dark, she could hardly see her. But she loved her all the same.</p><p>“Nanna…” Jeanne sighed. “Ah… Nanna…!”</p><p>A life on the move rarely afforded them any privacy. Most of the time, they had to make do with stolen moments: chaste kisses in the woods, or silent, furtive touches as they travelled the roads of the Munster District, trailing closely behind Leif and their father. But here, now, they had all the time they wanted. All the time to enjoy each other, to savour each other. Here, in this forgotten corner of the village, Nanna could carry out her duties to her sister – without fear of judgement or discovery.</p><p>Here, those first days of jealousy seemed a lifetime ago.</p><p>The kisses came easily, meeting and parting and meeting again, tongues twisting and stroking in a natural, familiar rhythm. Their hands wandered over slick skin, slipping under folds of fabric, and Jeanne tugged at her sister’s hair, fingers twisting in the short blonde locks and running through the feather tucked behind her ear. Before long, she broke the kiss and travelled further down, down to Nanna’s collarbone, to the skin just above the neckline of her dress, to the ruby pendant her mother had given her before she’d left; and her lips grazed the jewel as she pressed hungrier, needier kisses into the crook of her sister’s neck. As if in invitation, her legs parted just a little more, letting Nanna’s knee slide upwards and rub against the thin fabric of her panties – and she moaned, sharp and sudden, at the pressure against her mound.</p><p>“You’re positively soaking,” Nanna whispered, smiling down at her and caressing her cheek. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Mhm.” Jeanne’s breath was heavy against her skin, and her voice shook with desire, but she managed to compose herself just enough to form words. “Nanna… C-could you, um… with your hands…?”</p><p>“Of course.” Nanna leaned in, lips hovering just inches from Jeanne’s earlobe, and felt her shiver as she spoke. “Down there? You’d like me to touch you down there?”</p><p>She had precious few opportunities to tease Jeanne, and heard just the slightest twinge of frustration in the other girl’s voice – but she nodded all the same, biting her lip. “Please…”  </p><p>Over the years, Nanna had learned to work at her sister’s pace. To start slowly, never rushing her or pressuring her to go further than she was comfortable with. Her duty, above all, was an act of service; and she would only offer Jeanne as much as she requested of her.</p><p>And when, like now, she urgently needed something, Nanna was glad to indulge her.</p><p>She drew away for a moment, reaching down and running her hands around her sister to find the knots that held her robes together. She worked quickly, diligently – one tug, then a second; then on the third the garment finally came loose, falling slowly down Jeanne’s shoulders—catching around her sash until that, too, was tugged away—to form a pink puddle around her boots.</p><p>Briefly, as she had a habit of doing, Nanna explored Jeanne – traced the profile of her shoulders, her stomach, her hips, all so tender and perfect, and admired the firmness of her breasts and the softness of her thighs. Then, cupping her by the chin, she pulled her into another kiss. Their mouths moved eagerly together, tongues sharing the tastes of honey and lavender, of apples and cinnamon, while Jeanne did her best to unlace Nanna’s more elegant dress, peeling away the layers until only the essentials remained.</p><p>“You’re so pretty,” Jeanne whispered into their kiss, light and playful. “It’s not fair, you know…”</p><p>A few words hovered on Nanna’s lips—reassurances that she was just as beautiful, just as wonderful, just as worthy of love—but then Jeanne was kissing her again, pushing her tongue more insistently into her mouth, and she forgot them entirely. They lost themselves in the haze of their passion, tumbling into a bundle of hay, and their bodies curled around each other even as the sharp strands bit at their skin. Nanna pushed herself up and over her sister, lying on top of her, holding her close – then Jeanne shuddered with anticipation as she slipped a hand under the waistline of her panties, brushing ever so gently against her most sensitive spot, and set to work fulfilling her duty.</p><p>She started with a single finger, sliding effortlessly into her sister and running it in and out in a soft, steady rhythm. She moved with an expertise long gained, knowing Jeanne’s body like she knew her own; knew where to touch, knew where to stroke, knew exactly how to draw out her pleasure and make her as happy as possible. Jeanne let out a high, delighted gasp as Nanna pushed further, faster, and her head fell back, her whole body tensing and tightening with pleasure.</p><p>Caught up in the excitement, Nanna added a second finger, then a third; felt the walls of Jeanne’s folds flutter rapidly around her, felt her legs starting to buckle, felt her arousal grow and grow with every delicate thrust. She was working far more quickly than she’d intended, and thought for a moment to slow down, to give Jeanne room to breathe; but then Jeanne’s hips moved in time with her hand, desperate for her to go even deeper, and Nanna obliged, working harder and guiding her ever closer to release.</p><p>They kissed again, and Nanna lost herself in her sister. She lost herself in her beauty, which she had always concealed through modesty. She lost herself in her scent, the sweet aroma of her perfume, applied so faintly around her neck but in just the right amounts to be intoxicating. And she lost herself in their shared arousal; in the messy heat of their mouths, in the juices trickling down her hand and glistening in the dark, in the way they moved in perfect harmony, teasing and pleasing and indulging each another in ways no-one else could ever understand.</p><p>She wanted to stay like this with her forever. To hold Jeanne as she trembled with unspent desire, as she reached the very peak of her ecstacy. To keep this girl—this girl they’d found so long ago on the road west of Alster, alone and afraid—safe and happy and content, a world apart from war, from exile, and from the Empire’s endless reach.</p><p>She couldn’t, of course. Soon enough, whether in weeks or in days, they’d be uprooted again. Forced back onto the road to escape the Empire’s clutches. It was an inevitability. A cycle they’d never be able to escape.</p><p>But they had this moment. This fleeting moment of privacy, of intimacy. A chance to prove their love to each other before Grannvale threatened to steal it all away.</p><p>When Jeanne came, brought to climax by a few final strokes of Nanna’s fingers, the world went still. The wind had long since settled, leaving the stable in silence, and Nanna laid her head down against the other girl’s chest, wrapping her in her arms and squeezing tightly. And there in the darkness, only briefly, her eyes met Jeanne’s, smiling across at her with the purest kind of love and affection.</p><p>Nanna had a duty to her sister – and no matter how much more the Empire tried to take from her, she’d see that duty through to the very end.</p><p>A lady of House Nordion could do no less.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Dance Before the Dawn (Laylea/Lene)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On the eve of Jugdral’s liberation, Laylea reflects on her relationship with Lene.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Rating: Mature</b>
</p><p>finally, some substitute character pov</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the moment, all seemed still on the narrow border between Miletos and Grannvale. Fog rolled over the distant peaks, shrouding the forests and fields in an eerie kind of silence, and the sky was tinged with just the slightest hint of grey amidst the distant orange light. The Liberation Army’s camp, running from the foothills down to the riverbank, was all but lifeless in the early hours, and the empire’s armies—stretched thin, no doubt, by the rebellions breaking out all across the continent—were nowhere to be seen.</p><p>Laylea knew it was a deceptive kind of peace. Grannvale was cornered, but it wasn’t careless – and it was surely keeping a close eye on them, even if they couldn’t see it for all the mountains and mist. Eventually—whether in the morning, as the Liberation Army set out to take Edda and Dozel, or even sooner still if the empire made a sudden move—the peace would break, and the fighting would start again. And this time, it wouldn’t stop until one side had been utterly wiped out.</p><p>The morning was fast approaching. One way or another, everything was about to come to an end. And yet, Laylea couldn’t help but want just a little more time.</p><p>Behind her, bathed in a sliver of light filtering into the tent, she heard Lene briefly stir; heard her blankets shift, and heard the grumbles of a restless sleep. Without her usual ponytail, her hair fell down to her shoulders, tousled and messy as she’d turned in the night, and she clutched the empty bedroll next to hers as if still searching for Laylea’s warmth.</p><p>The poor girl. She rarely slept well, but tonight, she’d seemed especially troubled.</p><p>Laylea had been wide awake; was almost always wide awake at this hour, because she’d never quite learned how to sleep. Her years as a dancer in Darna—far longer than anyone just twenty years of age should have been working such a sordid occupation—had taught her that her time, like her body, was never her own, and that she had to be ready for customers at a moment’s notice – no matter the hour. Even now, just a few months shy of a year since she’d fled the city, that awful mindset was something she struggled to shake.</p><p>But she wasn’t worried about herself. She was used, by now, to getting by on only an hour or so of sleep every night, just as she was used to the solitude that came with watching the sunrise. She was more worried about Lene. Lene, who deserved better than to be shaken awake by the inevitable call to arms. Had she only the power, Laylea would have let her rest for as long as she liked.</p><p>Somewhere far in the distance—far beyond the river, beyond the fog, beyond the hills and the valleys—she could hear the birds singing their first songs of the day. It was a shame that such beautiful melodies had to herald war.</p><p>For just a few moments longer, she stared out towards the horizon. Then, stepping just lightly enough so as not to wake Lene, she retreated into the warmth of their tent, laying herself back down on the empty bedroll. Almost at once, she felt Lene move beside her; and then the sleeping girl’s arm slid almost instinctually around her body, tugging her closer. Laylea eased into her embrace, content to comfort her with her presence, and shifted only slightly to gaze upon her as she slept.</p><p>Strange as it surely made her sound, she’d come to love the sight of Lene at rest like this. Back in Darna, even before they’d grown as close as they had, she’d done as much as she could to make sure the younger girl wouldn’t have to work through the night – and in the time between clients, when the small establishment fell silent, she’d taken her gentle snores as a sign that, even if it was only in a small way, she was helping to make her life slightly easier. And if it meant that Lene could sleep with the knowledge that she was safe—even if her sleep was rarely peaceful—then every moment Laylea had spent by her side had been worth it.</p><p>As carefully as before, she lifted a hand up to Lene’s face, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and letting her fingers drift only briefly over her cheek. She’d never needed all the gaudy extravagance of her jewellery and her outfit to be beautiful, and if it hadn’t run the risk of rousing her, Laylea would have held her just a little tighter.</p><p>Nowadays, she struggled to remember the circumstances that had landed her in Darna; that had forced her to resort to such desperate means. Perhaps, at one point or another, she’d had some greater purpose beyond simply surviving. But if she hadn’t had a purpose before, it should hardly have been a surprise that she’d found one in someone like Lene. That she’d found someone to protect, to cherish, and to love.</p><p>The girl moved in her sleep, her legs brushing up against Laylea’s – soft, and warm, and ever so slightly trembling. She moved to accommodate her, letting their legs slide together.</p><p>At first, she’d helped her out of simple concern. A girl her age, working day after day as a dancer, performing for such disgusting nobles – it was a terrible place for her to be. She’d only wanted to watch out for her; to make sure she didn’t have to suffer the very worst parts of their work. But that after so many days in her company, taking a rare kind of solace in friendship, that concern had blossomed into something more; and on the very night she’d freed her from Bramsel’s clutches, helping her escape the city, she’d realised just how deep her affections had grown.</p><p>That first night of freedom—from their horrible professions, from their insufferable obligations, from all the leering, wicked men they’d been forced to perform for—had been the most wonderful of their lives. And as their lips had met for the first time, Laylea had been glad to find that Lene had felt the very same way about her.</p><p>It was a lovely memory. So lovely, in fact, that she almost hadn’t noticed Lene’s eyes drifting open, sleepily regarding her in the darkness.</p><p>“Laylea,” she murmured. “G’morning…”</p><p>“Good morning, yourself.” Laylea’s hand returned to her cheek, softly caressing her. “I’m sorry. I must have woken you up.”</p><p>“No – no, it wasn’t that. I think… I think I was having a dream…”</p><p>“A good dream?”</p><p>A pause; then Lene shook her head. It had been a silly question, really, given the way she’d been sleeping; but she’d had to ask all the same.</p><p>“I was… back in Darna,” she managed, her voice quivering. “Back with… with Bramsel. He was making me perform for him – only you weren’t there, and you’d never been there, and there was no-one to… to…”</p><p>She sighed, nearly tearful, and Laylea held her close, pressing a kiss into her cheek.</p><p>“It’s okay, love. It was all just a dream. A silly little dream. I’m here for you now.”</p><p>In their embrace, she felt Lene nod.</p><p>“What time is it?” she asked.</p><p>“Just before morning. We still have an hour or so left before everything kicks off.”</p><p>For a moment, Lene was silent; and then she drew back to meet Laylea’s gaze again.</p><p>“I guess this is really it, huh…? One way or another, this is the last battle we’ll ever have to fight…”</p><p>“Mm. The empire won’t make it easy for us, I’m sure. But we’ll win.”</p><p>“You think so…?”</p><p>“I know so.” Her other hand came up to cup Lene’s face, and she looked deep into her eyes. “We’ll be okay. No matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let them hurt you – not ever again.”</p><p>At last, Lene smiled. She knew how to put on all kinds of smiles for the world; but Laylea took heart in knowing that when Lene smiled for her, it was as genuine as could be.</p><p>“Thanks,” she whispered. “For everything.”</p><p>“It’s my pleasure, love. It always has been.”</p><p>As easily as ever, they drew into a kiss; and as easily as ever, they lost themselves in it. The pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future faded into nothing, leaving only the present – their lips meeting, their hands wandering, their hearts beating as one. Lene’s taste lingered on every parting breath, as intoxicating as it had been on their very first night together, and Laylea found herself wanting to hold on to her and never let go. To let her live in this one perfect moment forever, keeping her safe and happy and loved.</p><p>A silly dream, maybe. But one that was undoubtedly worth it. She’d rescued Lene from Bramsel, and from Darna – but in giving her a purpose, Lene had also rescued her. After so many years of wandering through life alone, she’d finally found someone to live for.</p><p>Now, they’d been through so much together. And whatever the future held—however many trials they were yet to endure—they’d have each other.</p><p>“It’s almost time,” Lene breathed between kisses. “We should… probably be getting ready…”</p><p>Laylea smiled against her lips. “We should.”</p><p>Then their bodies pressed more insistently together, fighting back the cold morning air, and Lene’s tongue slipped out to meet her lover’s; and all thought of the coming battle fled their minds as they gave themselves over to each other – just as they had so many times before. Laylea curled one hand around the back of Lene’s head and the other around her waist, drawing her tight against her, and Lene wound her fingers through Lene’s hair as their kiss deepened and their desire quickly rose.</p><p>They might have had a full two hours before the army was ready, or they might have had minutes. Either way, they were determined to make the most of every moment.</p><p>When they parted for breath, Laylea allowed her hand around Lene’s waist to wander lower, stroking her hips and teasing down to the swell of her buttocks. Her thigh slid between Lene’s legs, and the younger girl gasped and broke away, her cheeks flushing – but she was smiling again, and her eyes were dancing with delight.</p><p>“Well, <em>someone’s </em>feeling eager this morning,” she murmured, one of her fingers lightly tracing Laylea’s jaw. “One last good memory before going to war – is that it?”</p><p>“Something like that,” Laylea purred. “Any objections?”</p><p>Lene chuckled softly – and Laylea’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.</p><p>“No. None at all.”</p><p>And as they made love again—as they lips mashed together, as their bodies moved as one, and as they surrendered to passion and pleasure—all was briefly right in the world. There was no pain, no hardship, no war; only the two of them, and their boundless devotion to one another.</p><p>Destiny, of course, could only stand aside for so long. Soon, the camp would be stirring with activity; and the Liberation Army would be on the march again; and the battle for Jugdral’s future would be at hand. Soon, the light of dawn would spread across the horizon, piercing the gloom, and the world would begin anew.</p><p>But for now, for a time, they could enjoy the present – and Laylea, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t be her last chance to do so, could thank Lene for everything she’d been to her.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>